Letters
by Wolfish Oro
Summary: All Goblins are literate, and they're up to something now...


Letters

* * *

All Goblins are literate.

It seems odd, doesn't it? But it is true. For all their funny accents and seemingly slow nature, all Goblins are literate, and a hell of a lot more clever than most humans think.

For that matter, they're a hell of a lot cleverer than said humans.

But back to the point... All Goblins are literate. Their script-- a spidery, elegant, _simple_ script-- is instinctual, and they can read and write from the time they understand the words. Because of this, a tradition has grown within the Goblin Kingdom, started by the very first Goblin King and kept by the current King.

Once every three years or so, all the Goblins write letters for the King. A great deal of the Goblins have spent time in the Castle, and they all want to know how he's doing. He's a good King, the oldest Goblins say with a nod. Better than the last one, who was kind but in charge of so many places that he couldn't keep up with the Goblins. No time to play or to sing or to dance, not the way the current King does.

It's good for the economy, these letters. For about two months before hand, the parchment makers hire more Goblins to make the paper, and the herbalists collect different types of roots and branches, burning the branches for soot to make black ink, using the sap from the roots to hold together colored ink mixes. Some of the metal-smiths have discovered ways of making ink from very fine metal grinds and water from the Spring in the Fiery Forest. And then, more Goblins are hired by the towns to collect the mail and deliver it to the King.

He reads every single one of them, and often, he'll pass a Goblin while wandering through the Labyrinth or some other part of the Kindgom and ask about something in their letter-- for all that he forgets their names half the time, he always know who wrote what letter. Some of them have pictures inked inside; these are usually from the artisans or the scribes or the very young Goblins, who still don't know enough words yet to write a proper letter.

It occupies him for nearly half a year, to read all the letters. He loves it, though-- it is one more thing to connect him to the Labyrinth, the knowledge of how his subjects are doing. It also allows him to rule without a Parliament, which had been tried by the very first Goblin King, until the historic monarch discovered the magic of the letters. Goblins, given a chance and half a reason, would argue to kingdom come, and quite possibly beyond that. The letters also let him know how trade is doing, and if something in the market isn't selling, or if something else is in high demand and short supply.

He's a good King, the oldest Goblins say with a nod. But lonely, sometimes, because the Goblins have to leave him when Fae buisness crops up. A good King needs a good Queen, some of the Goblins say. And it is agreed, and the Goblins-- in their own twisted way-- set about to matchmaking.

The Goblins in the City came up with the idea first. Word spread about what the City-dwellers were planning, and Goblins around the country buy twice as much as usual, unbeknownst to their King. It is generally agreed that he cannot know what's going on, or it won't work. It is the one thing they don't put in their letters to him.

He cannot know, which is why they wait nearly a week to send out the second round of letters. The messangers sneak through all at once, leaving nine huge bags-- full to the brim-- for her, one from each town. The Goblin King is too engrossed in his reading to realize that, just for a moment or two, the whole country seems much quieter. Even if he did, the Goblin messangers would be back by that time and things would be back to normal, almost.

For the first time since he first recieves the letters, the King recieves a Call. A wish, but not a wished-away; the Goblins can feel the difference just as surely as the King and they snicker softly once he's gone, because they know exactly what will happen.

The Goblin King arrives, in all his majestic glory, to find a very confused Sarah sitting on her bed. Nine bags, twice over as tall as Hoggle and as wide around as the kegs of ale the Goblins so love, crowd the room, and he picks his way carefully over to stand beside the bed.

"You wished to speak with me?" His voice is stiff and formal, his eyes are wary and cool, but he seems a little relieved to be just talking to her.

"Yes... I have what seems to be a bunch of lovely letters here," Sarah sweeps an arm to gesture at the bags and the papers scattered across her bed, "and I really wish I could read them, but I don't know how to read Goblin script."

This was most certainly _not_ what he was expecting, and he blinked sharply. "What on earth do you suggest I do about that?" Jareth finally asks her.

"Well, I asked Hoggle and Didymus if they had one first, but I was hoping to borry an English-Goblin dictionary, and Didymus said that if anyone had one, it would be you..." she trails off, uncertain but hopeful, and he has to laugh now.

"I think I can do a little better than that." The Goblin King pulls a crystal from the air, twirling it around his fingers before presenting it to Sarah with a flourish. "This will translate the words for you. You have only to look through it and the script will be transcribed."

"Thank you," she says as she takes the crystal gently. It is a solid weight in her hand, and she runs it over a line of text, delighted to find she can now read the script. Her face lights up, and she turns back to the King. "Thank you, it's wonderful!"

Jareth makes a noncomittal noise, looking at the letters. "I suppose we'll have to compare notes after you've finished reading yours," he says absently.

"So you get them too?" Sarah is full of questions, and as much as she wants to start reading the letters, she wants to know about the Underground, particularly his Kingdom.

"Once every three years," he responds, and moves to sit down.

"Why?"

He explains about the tradition, and how the actual Day of Writing is a national holiday, and how the letters help him to become a better King. He gives her tips on storing the multitude of papers, and he tells her how he's set up a gallery, in his wing of the castle, that is nothing but drawings the Goblins have sent him.

Eventually, he leaves her to her letters. But not until two hours have passed, and he's invited her to dinner and a tour of the gallery next week.

* * *

Oro: In my defence, I had two exams today, and one of them was for an A P course. I love my A P teacher's sense of humor... The multiple choice answers spelled out "dead" at random intervals. This is another one that was supposed to be short and grew... Hm. Doesn this count as romance, since Jareth technically asked Sarah on a date? Whatever, it's humor, anyway. Kind of. Not the really obvious kind, but enough that it counts. Right? Right. Forgive me, I babble...

I don't own Labyrinth, or Jareth, or Sarah. Or the Goblins, really.

Quill: You're supposed to be studying!

Oro: Damn you, kanji, you'll be the death of me yet!


End file.
